“Mobile. Come on. Hand it over. You don’t want to end up down the nick, do you?”

“Interfering with the freedom of the press now, are you?”

Banks took a step toward him, and Donnie Vickers, intrepid reporter for the Eastvale Gazette, handed over his mobile phone. It was the kind that didn’t require a password to access the camera and photograph functions, which was all Banks was really interested in. He deleted a couple of blurry snaps of men in white searching through the bushes and handed it back. “Let’s have a level playing field, Donnie, there’s a good lad,” he said, pointing to the others behind the tape. “Now off you go and join your mates.”

Donnie ambled off, still rubbing his arm, grumbling and scowling over his shoulder. Adrian Moss took him by the arm when he got to the police tape, and Banks turned back to Annie and Gerry.

“I can’t imagine they’ve found anything much,” Annie said. “Remember that bloody deluge the morning after the killing, when we found the body?”

“I remember,” said Banks. “But the weather’s been good since then. Dry, too. Who knows, if Samir was killed around here, with all the shelter the trees and bushes provide, we may still find traces. We can’t assume that he knew where he was going when he ran off this way. Look at it from his point of view: he’s stuck in a gloomy old house on an empty estate with a dead body. He’s probably seen more than enough of them in his time, but that doesn’t necessarily make the situation any easier. Perhaps it sets off memories he’s managed to suppress for a while? Whatever the reason, when the back door opens and big Frankie comes lumbering through, it’s a breaking point for Samir, and he takes off. Remember, he’s never seen Frankie before, doesn’t know who he is. And, maybe, just maybe, he ends up here.”

“Then what?” Annie asked.

“That’s what we don’t know yet. But I hope whatever it is they’ve found might make it a bit clearer.”

“Sir? I think they’re ready for us now,” Gerry said.

Banks turned immediately toward the woods and saw one of the white-suited searchers gesturing for them to enter the woods. “Be careful,” she said, “there’s some thorny undergrowth around here.”

And indeed there was. Banks found himself scratched on several occasions as he made his way into the shrubbery, and judging from the curses behind him, so did Annie and Gerry. Finally, they came across Stefan Nowak standing in a clearing. It was cool in the shelter of the trees.

Without preamble, Nowak pointed at the ground. “You can see the ground has been flattened here and there.”